


i'm your villain

by beckyinthesky



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bruises, Dirty Talk, M/M, Sex, tw: bruises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 15:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beckyinthesky/pseuds/beckyinthesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Montparnasse was a skater. His body was covered in bruises all of the time, it was nothing new. Little did the people know that the majority of them were caused by something else entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm your villain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dialecstatic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dialecstatic/gifts).



> So, this is not beta-d so please bare with me.

_i see the passion emerge / and i'm your villain / oh, if i could smile at anything you said / we could be laughing lovers / i think you'd prefer to be miserable instead_

Montparnasse was a skater. His body was covered in bruises all of the time, it was nothing new. Little did the people know that the majority of them were caused by something else entirely.

The first time was an accident. They were behind the pub Montparnasse was working in. It wasn't new that they were doing it in public, the rush and excitement of the eventuality of being caught raging in their blood. It was something else. Montparnasse's back rubbing against the exposed brick wall while Grantaire fucked him against it sent him off the edge. He refused to wear a shirt for a whole week afterward, showing off his bruises and reminding himself of the force he had come with every time his finger brushed over the grazed skin.

He couldn't tell if Grantaire did it on purpose the next time. He couldn't tell whether he had noticed how hard Montparnasse had come as response to the pain. They were in a toilet stall in some random bar neither of them had ever heard about. Cigarette smoke on their clothes and alcohol in their breath they tasted each other, touched every inch of bare skin they could get their hands on. The stall was dirty, run-down, just like them. They had to be quiet, they couldn't go too far, but when Grantaire came he buried his teeth in Montparnasse's shoulder, muffling his own moan and causing the other man to yell out in a thrill of ecstasy. Grantaire smiled at him, mischief glancing in his eyes and drops of Montparnasse's blood still on his teeth and lips. He pulled him closer, buried his hands in his hair and kissed him.

The third time, definitely, was planned. Montparnasse has always had a certain attraction to fire. Fire was dangerous, deadly and yet existential. Fire creates life, but it also destroys. He saw his own face in the flame. It gave him the thrill most things couldn't. He always lived on the edge, always yearning for new boundaries to overstep and always trying to fill the void in his body with life. Grantaire gave him some of that. Grantaire was able to because he was willing to go to certain extends most people shied away from. He was like him, a creature living in the darkness. Searching for things that were wrong, wallowing in the forbidden. This time they were in Montparnasse's small apartment. The blinds were shut but still a few rays of the afternoon sunlight managed to get through and bathed the room in an unholy light. Montparnasse was leaning onto his desk, a burning candle in his hand and a naked Grantaire sprawled out on his bed. With a grin he pushed himself away from the table, walked towards Grantaire and placed himself on him. The flame was flickering between them, highlighting the wonder and glow in Grantaire's eyes. With every thrust of their hips and every whispered word Montparnasse poured drops of hot wax on the other man's chest. _Fuck me_ , he said and poured. _Hard_ , another drop. _I'm going to make you come so hard_. Grantaire laughed but at the next drop of hot, burning wax he let out a moan that sent shivers down Montparnasse's spine. With his breath hot against Grantaire's neck he came. He would trace his fingers along Grantaire's slightly burned skin for weeks to come after that, reliving the work of art he had created.

The last one was coined out of pure passion. Skin pressed against skin. Trembling hands removing fabric. Montparnasse took a deep drag of his cigarette, holding it in for a moment and moving closer to Grantaire's mouth. Slowly he exhaled, breathing the smoke into Grantaire who welcomed it longingly, almost greedily. They always reeked of one another. Of their histories buried deep within them. Of their secrets not shared but endured together. There were the demons they had to hold inside them and with being together they ensured that they stayed there. They tossed and turned in their anger, their fears and somehow it helped. Every time they slept together they were on the edge. They were overwhelmed with feelings and emotions. Not for each other but for themselves. Every time it was a desperate attempt to not fall apart. Their bodies were as close as they could get, Grantaire's fingernails rough on Montparnasse's back. It was a concert of moaning and heavy breathing and the squeaking sound the bed made underneath their movements as Grantaire pulled in and out of Montparnasse. With his fingernails Grantaire painted a picture of lust and self-hatred on Montparnasse's flesh, digging in deeper and becoming rougher and rougher the closer he got to climax. They came together and buried their demons again, deep within their hearts.


End file.
